


All Of Me

by SamwiseLives



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-22 00:02:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9572810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamwiseLives/pseuds/SamwiseLives
Summary: Aaron has a moment of self doubt.





	1. Aaron.

**Author's Note:**

> I was worried that people might be getting bored of the stuff I have been writing, so I though I'd try something a little different. I hope some of you think it's okay.

Tonight finds me sitting on the bottom of the bed. It's early, too early to be thinking about getting in and wrapping the covers around myself, hiding from the world. It's only seven, I should be thinking about joining Mum downstairs at the bar and seeing what drama is unfolding. Something is bound to be going on, it always is. But I can't. I can't face anyone right now.

Liv is out for the night, sleepover at Gabby's, and Robert is stuck with Nicola going over a backlog of paperwork. He text me earlier, a sad face followed by countless kisses. Soppy git. I'm glad they are all out, I don't want anyone to see me like this.

It started earlier, some throwaway remark Adam made. He caught his arm when he was stripping one of the car shells. Nothing much, just a scratch. When he was putting a plaster over the graze he said something that had me thinking. It was a random comment, it meant nothing. To him anyway. 'Vic won't fancy me now!'  
I forced a smile, it was a joke, nothing more. 

 

That remark stuck. It was in my head when I got home, when I had a drink with Mum. When I had a shower.

Robert tell me he loves me. Every day he tell me. But how can he love this body? How can he love the way I look when sometimes I can't even look in a mirror? 

The way he kisses me, the way he holds me, they all speak of his love, they make me believe that he is telling the truth, that he loves me more than anyone else. But when I see myself I know that it's impossible, that he can't love someone like me. 

He is sunshine, fire and laughter. He is passion and excitement, promise and smiles. I'm being selfish in keeping him for myself. I should let him go. Let him love someone who is bright and full of fun. Let him love someone who isn't me.

I am shadows and nightmares. Tears and memories, scars. And rape. I feel like that little boy, terrified, confused, alone. Hiding under the bedcovers, bleeding onto the sheets. I am only my past.

 

My body is littered with hopeless scars. Big ones that run deeply into me, little ones that hardly broke the skin. White and red sit side by side on my arms, chest, stomach, thighs. I am deeply ashamed at what I have done, at what I have become. And If I cannot look, how can I expect Robert too?

The way I feel about him frightens me. How have I allowed this to happen? I know I should be on my own, it would be for the best. But the thought of giving him up? I couldn't do it. I love him with an intensity I never thought possible. I honestly thought I had been in love before. I was wrong.

 

Jackson was, well, Jackson. When I allow myself to think about him, I remember holding that glass to his lips... I remember the moment he left me forever. I remember the cold headstone that I cannot visit.

Ed was good to me, and he quietly allowed me my privacy. I loved him for that. He never asked about the scars, and I never told.  
I bathed alone with the door tightly locked and he was kind enough to keep the light off when we were in bed together. I don't think he ever understood, and he never asked me any sort of questions. But I wish he had. I wanted him to push and ask why I did the things I did to myself. I needed to tell someone. Him. I needed to tell him. But it wasn't to be. And so I kept my secrets.

When it ended between us I felt a sense of relief. Relief that I would not have to be close to anyone again, that I could keep my dirty little secrets and cope in the only way I knew how.

And I did. I managed. All right, it wasn't the healthiest way of dealing with things, but for me it worked. Then Robert came along, and my carefully constructed little life all went to shit.

 

I fell for him. Hard. I tried not to, God, how I tried. But it was useless. I loved him from the start.

I think I always knew that it would be him I told. There is something about Robert that has me spilling all of my secrets. His hands, his smile, his eyes. They all offer comfort, a comfort I had not found before. And he asked. He was the one who pushed me for answers, who wouldn't take my sidestepping and bullshit. I told him everything. The cutting, the hurt. Gordon. 

He was shocked, horrified, but he never once shied away. He got me through it. Without him I wouldn't have had the strength. Mum would still be none the wiser, and as for me... Well, I know I wouldn't be here any longer.

He stuck by me, even though he could have been happy elsewhere, with someone perfect. He held me when I cried. He woke me when I was trapped in nightmares. He sat with me for hours when I couldn't, wouldn't, sleep. And he still does.

Robert endures it all for me. My anger, my insecurities, my family. They don't hate him, not anymore. But he knows that they want more for me. They cannot see that Robert is the only person I will ever love. They don't see how he gets me through each and every day. They think that he will be the cause of me slipping back into my old habits. None of them realise that he is the only reason I don't.

He puts up with the remarks, the glaring looks, the obvious disdain. He does it all for me. And all I can give him is myself. It's not enough.

 

I sit here, knowing that I am horrible to look upon. How he can touch me and not flinch I will never know. Even in the dark it is apparent that there is something wrong with my skin. And right now, in the harsh light, it's clear.

My skin is raised where the scars are, bumpy and ugly. Long, short, healed and still starkly red, I have quite the collection. A collection I have not added to recently. But it's always there, in the back of my mind. Wondering how long I will be able to go this time. Since I have had Robert in my life the temptation has gone from needing to cut all the time, to being able to not think about it every hour. I don't want to do this anymore. For him.

I'll never be beautiful, never be someone he can look at and not think about the ugliness I hide underneath my clothes. I watch him sometimes when he is engrossed in one of his films. Seeing all these attractive men pass before his eyes. Then turning to me, seeing this sat beside him. How can he not wish for more?

If I truly loved him, wouldn't I let him go? Wouldn't I push him away and allow him find someone who is truly deserving of him? Not this...this broken, damaged, angry man with the scars. He deserves all the things I will never be able to give to him. Flawless skin, bright smiles and a ready laugh. Long nights without dreaming of old bedrooms and creaking doors. Skin that feels smooth under his gentle hands, skin that he can kiss and want to look at. Arms that he can stroke his fingers across and not be faced with a constant reminder of how it used to be.

I want the world for him, but I cannot give him anything.


	2. Robert.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robert comes home.

He sits on the bottom of our bed. The door is ajar and I stand in the gap, quietly watching him. I feel like a voyeur. I shouldn't be doing this, looking at him without his knowledge, but I can't help it. He seems so small, if that is the right word. Small and alone and afraid. He's not crying, but it's already there waiting to break free. It's in the gentle hitch of his slumped shoulders. In the way he is breathing slowly, trying to calm himself down.

His heart is breaking. And it's taking mine along with it.

 

His hands run over his arms, across his bare chest and stomach. Aaron hardly ever appears undressed, even in front of me. So seeing him sitting on our bed clad in only his boxer shorts is almost shocking. Especially with the light on. He is so engrossed in his actions that I know I could stand here for hours and he would not notice. 

He is touching his scars. Running his fingers over the healed wounds he inflicted.

 

Aaron hates the way he looks. I've learned enough by watching him, watching all the little things he does without realising it. They all point to how much of himself he wants to hide.

He constantly tugs the long sleeves of his tops and jumpers over his wrists and hands, trying to cover as much skin as possible. He finds it difficult to look fully into a mirror. It's all sidelong glances and brief glimpses. He dresses quickly, never allowing himself to be naked for too long. Yes, we have had sex with him laid bare, but it's not often. He likes to be hidden, even if it's only by a t-shirt, and he would rather the lights were off.  
I don't question him, it wouldn't be fair. 

But I notice. I notice it all, and it breaks my heart a little more each time.

He doesn't see how extraordinary he is. How every time I wake beside him I have to pinch myself just to make sure that I am not still dreaming, that he is actually mine. I get to call this remarkable man my fiancé. I wake up next to him, go to sleep with him by my side. I get to kiss him, hold him, make love to him.

 

It didn't start well between us. And that was my fault. I'll admit that I was terrified. Terrified that I had fallen deeply for him, in what felt like only a matter of days. It unnerved me, frightened me in a way that I have never experienced before. He changed my entire world, shook it upside down. It hasn't settled since.

I thought I knew what love was like, I thought I had everything under my control. I didn't need love in my life, not real love. Hell, I didn't really believe in it if I'm being completely honest. I used love to my own advantage. And if I refused to believe in it, I could never be truly hurt or out of my depth. 

 

And then I saw him.  
This angry young man who wouldn't back down, would fight for what he believed in. Who had a heart so big it was astonishing. 

It was never just about the sex. I kidded myself that it was all it ever was between us. I was too scared to admit to anything more. But I knew, knew that he had changed everything, changed me so irrevocably that there was no going back from the hurricane that is Aaron. 

He loved me, I could see it just from the way he looked at me. Aaron wears his heart on his sleeve. It's there for everyone to see, including me. But I was stupid. I didn't deserve him, I still don't. He could have the world, he could have his pick. 

Aaron has this pull over me. I wanted to walk away, I should have on many occasions. We could have been happy without each other, I'm sure of it. But happy wasn't enough. I needed more than that. I wanted extraordinary, I wanted blinding passion and hope and a future with this man. I wanted messed up, arguments and desperate making up. I needed Aaron in my life. I couldn't give him up. I wouldn't give him up.

 

And then... Gordon. I wanted to kill him. So many times I imagined wrapping my hands around his cowardly throat and just squeezing the life out of him. Squeezing so hard the bones in his neck would crack and break under my fingers. I would smile down at him, I would make him feel every last useless effort for breath. He deserves no mercy. He was not human enough for that luxury. Every nightmare that Aaron has finds me wanting Gordon to be alive, just so I could kill him slowly.

Aaron was eight years old for fucks sake. What kind of sick fuck would do that to a child? A child who had no one else to turn to. Is it any wonder that he took his pain and sadness out on himself. 

He cut and scratched and burned himself. Needed to feel physical pain because he couldn't cope with the pain in his heart.

 

When he sees his scars he sees pain, failure, weakness and desperation. When I see them I see only bravery, courage and a determination to survive.

He is beautiful with them. I hate what they mean to him, what he had to do to himself to just keep breathing, coping with what his shitty life threw in his way. But I certainly don't hate the way he looks. I wish he could see just how incredible he truly is. I'm going to make myself sound like a lovesick school girl swooning over the latest pop star, but my Aaron is bloody gorgeous! I can hardly keep my hands off him most days. I love to look at him, even after all this time. When he does let his guard down and allows me to kiss his chest, see him without the room being as black as pitch, lets me peel off his clothes. When he trusts me implicitly with the way he looks, those are my most favourite times. 

If only he could see that. 

 

It's our bed he sits on, it's our room. It's my ring around his finger, and it's my heart that he holds. 

I want to bury my hands in his soft hair. I want to gather him in my arms and tell him how much I love him, need him. 

So as he sits now, the lights blazing, his top and trousers off, has taken me aback. He is my Aaron, I can't just stand and watch as he breaks into a thousand tiny pieces. I've already watched for far too long.

 

'Aaron?' I push the door a fraction, my heart breaking a little more when he jumps. 'Baby, what's wrong?' 

'Nothing...' He looks around the room for something he can use to cover himself with. But there is nothing close by. His dressing gown is by my feet. He must have thrown it off in a hurry. He looks panicked, a rabbit caught in headlights.

'Aaron, it's me.' I keep my voice soft, my hands by my sides.

'Yeah.' He replies, his lips almost managing a smile. Almost. 'Thought you were going to be late.' He cannot look up from where his fists clench in his lap.

'Nicola thought Jimmy would be better company.' I shrug. 'She sent me home.' I step fully into our room, making sure to keep my movements slow. Knowing him as I do, I wouldn't be surprised to see him make a dash for the bathroom, wanting to hide.

'I...I'm sorry. I...I thought you would be late.' He gestures down at himself. 'I'll get dressed.'

'No. It's okay.' I close the door tightly behind me. It's perhaps a little cruel, but I don't want to give him the option for escape.

'Robert...' He's ashamed now, skin flushing under my gaze. 'Don't'

'You don't need to hide yourself from me.'

'Yeah, I do.' He tell me, dark eyes already overflowing with tears. 'Look at me, Robert.'

'I am looking.' I step a little closer to the bed. 

'Look at what I have done to myself.' He raises his head, finally meeting my eyes. 'You should walk away.'

'I'm not going anywhere.' I force a smile when it's the last thing in the world I feel like doing. 'You are mine, Aaron. You can't think that I'd be better off without you. I...I'm nothing without you.' I try, I try so hard to stop my voice from cracking. But it's no use.

'I want you to be happy.' He whispers. 'But I don't think you ever can be if you stay with me.'

'I love you, Aaron.'

'You can't.' He sobs, wrenching his eyes from mine. 'You can't.'

 

I don't want to scare him, but I can't just stand here like a prize fool while my fiancé is crushed by sobs. His entire body shakes with them, his bare chest heaving.

'Aaron... Please.' I beg, sitting beside him. 'It's okay. Talk to me.'

'Adam...' He fights for a little control.

'Has he said something?' I'm instantly angry. What on earth has Adam done to make him so upset?

'No, not...not exactly.'

'What do you mean not exactly? Do you want me to go round there and punch him?' I ask, only half-joking.

'No!' At least my reaction has raised a tiny smile. 'It's nothing.'

'It's clearly not nothing.' I push my luck and put my hand on his back. 'No secrets, remember.'

'He didn't mean anything by it.'

'So tell me anyway.' I start rubbing circles into Aaron's back, wanting to ease the tight muscles I find there. 'And then I can decide if I need to hit him.'

 

That stupid, thoughtless idiot. What possessed him to make a thickheaded comment like that? I'm fucking furious. I've half a mind to go around there right now and give him a black eye, brother-in-law be damned. What the fuck was he thinking? 

'He didn't mean it.' Aaron speaks, dragging me away from my dark thoughts.

'I'll be having a few words with him.' I say through gritted teeth.

'No you won't!' He replies, startled by the idea. 'It was just too close to the truth.'

'There is no truth in that.' I shake my head at his words.

'Look, we both know what I have done to myself isn't pretty. There is no point in pretending otherwise.' He shrugs his shoulders, resigned, broken. 'I'll put something on. Don't want to make you look any longer than necessary.' He makes a move to get up off the bed, but my hand stops him.

'You are beautiful.' My voice catches, I can't help it. 'You are the one thing in my life that I can honestly say I have gotten right. The one thing I can be proud of. I can hold my head up high and say that you are mine, Aaron.'

'Robert...' His face flushes.

'You don't see how amazing you are.' I tell him, he needs to hear it. 'I'm not going to lie to you, I care about your scars.'

'I...I'll get dressed.' He stutters quickly. I wrap my arm around his shoulders, not giving him the chance to pull away.

'No. I care about them because they show me that you are still here. That everything you have had to go through couldn't beat you. You found a way, Aaron. I wish with all my heart that you were not so very alone, that you should have had someone you could talk to. I hate that this was your only way of coping. I don't for a moment want you to think that you should hide your body from me. Your scars are a part of you.'

'An ugly part.'

'There is nothing about you that is ugly.'

His lips twitch in a painful parody of a smile. 'You don't have to say that to me, Robert. I realise what I am.'

'But you don't.' I whisper, not trusting my voice. 'You have no idea.'

 

He stays silent as I gently guide him to lie down, his body soft and pliant under my careful hands. I don't want to give him cause for fear, he has to trust me.

'Okay?' I am ready to jump away if I see a fraction of uncertainty on his face.

'Yes.' His one word is succinct, eyes open and full of trust. He doesn't take his eyes off me as I lie beside him, propping myself up on my elbow.

'Can I touch you?' I ask, my hand hovering over his stomach.

'You don't ever have to ask me that.' His warm smile reaches his eyes.

'I want you to feel safe, Aaron.' I let my hand fall to his bare stomach, only resting there, not moving.

'You make me safe.' He whispers, his hand coming up to my face. 'You are my home.' He blushes at his own words, not fully realising the effect that they have on me. Aaron is not like this. He loves me fiercely, I know that, but this vulnerable side is rarely allowed out.

I lean over him, brushing my lips against his.

'You make me happy, Aaron. Happier than I deserve to be.' I pull away a fraction. 'I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. You are the only person I have ever truly loved, the only person I will ever love.' I have to swallow hard to be able to continue.  
I cannot allow myself to break, not yet. Not when Aaron is looking up at me with tears shining in his eyes, his hand gentle against my cheek. It takes all of my willpower to be able to carry on. But I can, for him.

'I hate the way you see yourself.' I whisper now, my voice is protesting too much for anything louder. I start to trail my fingertips over his stomach. He shivers from my touch, eyes locked onto mine. 'I love you more than you can imagine. Sometimes I think that I will frighten you with just how much I need you in my life.'

'You couldn't frighten me.' He draws me down for another kiss. This one longer, our lips almost clinging to each other, too reluctant to let go.

'I...I would have died with you in...in that bloody car.' I tell him when we part for air. 'Without you there is no point to anything.'

 

He allows me to touch him, here in our room with the lights blazing. He stays silent, tears coursing down his cheeks as I tell him that I love him, that there will never be another. He lets me touch his scars, kiss them, pouring my love into each and every one. I pull him close and hold on for dear life.

 

Aaron wears his scars on his skin, carved into exhausted flesh. Mine are in my heart, matching his perfectly.


End file.
